First Breath After Coma
by Anna The Uncreative
Summary: Castiel doesn't remember
1. First Breath After Coma

fandom: supernatural  
pairing: destiel  
warnings: none for now, no spoilers either. amnesia!Cas.

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There are flashlights moving all around, until the whole world turns white. Sounds remain, though - people screaming, loud voices calming them down; sirens, more shouting. Then a hoarse, low whisper, saying "it's gonna be alright, Cas. I'm gonna make it all right." The voice fades a little by the end of the sentence, but Castiel's sore brain believes it anyway. He realizes his eyes have been opened all along, when his muscles get too tired and loosen shutting his eyelids and making the world turn black. After that all he remembers is floating in a void. Sometimes a soothing voice from before keeps him company. The words it says vary from angry through desperate to loving. But whatever they are, whatever they mean, they keep Castiel from drowning. And he is grateful.

He can't really tell the time flowing, but he has a feeling it's been a while. By then he thinks of the Voice as his friend. He can't respond, but the Voice doesn't seem to mind all too much, it just keeps going by itself.

That is until one time it has a request. The Voice sounds so desperate, so hopeless, that Castiel can't help but try and fulfill it. The more he fails, the harder he tries. After countless attempts, he manages to do what he was asked to and his eyes snap open.

Out of all the white Castiel is surrounded by, the dark silhouette comes out. The world seems to be mute, but then he starts to regain his senses, eyes finally telling colors apart and ears recognizing sounds. And there are plenty. The most overwhelming, though, is a voice. A familiar voice. His friend - the Voice. Except now it has a face. A freckled face with worried green eyes and rich lips. Castiel blinks. He doesn't know much about the world, if anything at all, but he's pretty sure people shouldn't look so devastatingly beautiful. He swallows, and the realization hits him - he has a voice of his own now. He can actually respond to his friend. So he does. Or rather - he tries. What comes out of his mouth are some inarticulate mix of coughs and syllables. Stubborn as he is, Castiel tries again.

What eventually comes out of his mouth is 'pretty.' The word is choked up, but clear to recognition.

The man furrows his brow and his gleeful "Cas!" turns into more questioning "uh, Cas?" His expression doesn't last long, not in Castiel's vision anyway - the man is shoved over by a couple of while-clothed people. There are all over him now, checking the tubes coming out of his body.

A steady fast beeping spreads across the room - it's Castiel's increasing heart rate. He hisses when blood pumped through his temples. His whole body is hurting and he wants to come back to the time where there was only he and his friend the Voice. His eyes close again, as he drifts off into blissful unconsciousness.

The next time he wakes up colors aren't so bright and he doesn't hear the sounds like the world's underwater. Everything still smells like at the drycleaner's though, just less condensed.

Castiel feels the warmth spreading over his hand. He shoots a glance only to realize it's covered with someone else's. As an extention to the hand, there's an arm, a neck, and finally a face. The one from before. Although Castiel's head's not pounding anymore, he hears beeping that indicates his heart's speeding up.

A sudden change of sound frequency wakes the man beside the bed. His eyes flutter open – wary, prepared. He looks around, ready to react to whatever's happening. Except, nothing is happening. Nothing bad anyway. After all, Cas is eventually awake.

The man's hand let go of his only to wrap both his arms around him in a tight hug. Castiel feels something wet on his shoulder, and he realizes the man's crying. Barely - just a couple of tears - but nevertheless.

Castiel's brain is working on full force now, but he doesn't get it. "Did I upset you?"

The man unlatches himself from his body and frowns, confused. His eyes are a little bit red, but otherwise nothing gives away the tears he shed. "No. Why?"

Castiel narrows his eyes and tilts his head a bit as if trying to see from a different direction, different point of view. It doesn't work - he's still baffled. "You were crying." It's a statement, but there's a question hanging behind it.

Very light shade of red creeps over the man's cheeks. He shifts uncomfortably and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. His gaze travels from staring into Castiel's eyes to looking somewhere over his right ear. "I was relieved," he says, sounding slightly embarrassed.

"Oh," Castiel still doesn't understand, but he lets it go. There are more important things to be taken care of. "Could you at least tell me who are you then?" he asks politely, because he's sure the person he indentifies as 'the Voice' probably has a name to go by.

The man's body freezes, and shock paints over his face. "You don't.." he backs away, barely half an inch, but Castiel notices. "You don't remember?" he stares right at him with hurt in he's eyes. Seeing that expression, Castiel knows he would give everything not to have forgotten whatever he didn't remember. However, that's not how the universe works. His head, his memories, is a blank.

"I'm sorry," he says breaking off their mutual 'who can pierce a soul with staring' contest. He just can't take the wave of sorrow radiating from his companion.

Seconds pass, the broken look on the man's face turns into empty gaze, like he put all his feelings behind a wall. "Dean," he swallows heavily. "My name's Dean Winchester," he sounds dried out of emotion with just a hint of bitterness.

Castiel knows he's not gonna like what comes next.

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**A/N:** tell me what you think. Is there something you'd change? please, give me some criticism/feedback.  
also note that it is not a finished fic, but I just really wanted to know someone's opinion before I go on.  
_(working title taken from a song by Explosions in the Sky)_


	2. Bully

warnings: **SPOLIERS up to 7x1**, the events start after season 6 finale, and ignores season 7.  
(sorry for not mentioning that earlier, but I honestly had no idea in what direction I would take with this story)  
for future there may be tiny spoilers, because of the leviathans, but nothing major.  
what more, the rating on this story will get higher - for now there was no need to rate it M, but it _will_ contain graphic violence, abuse, sex etc.

* * *

_**[flashback]**_

_Enormous grin graces Castiel's face, and his eyes glint with a spark of crazy. He looks quite disturbing just standing there in the middle of a store, wearing a trench coat that is stained with a very suspicious shade of red. People eye him warily, carefully go around him, not coming in at least a few feet radius. Someone from the staff is asked by their supervisor to get that creepy man out, since he scares off the clientele. Said employee taps Castiel on the shoulder, trying to get his attention._

_The grin stretches even wider – now it looks like his face is going to break in half. His head turns to a poor guy who interrupted his trance. Not a couple of seconds pass, and he's lying on the floor with his neck twisted unnaturally. Everything goes quickly from there , people being slaughtered one by one. Killing a dozen humans is surprisingly easy when they're all running amok – panic really slows them down. Of course, it helps if you have an inhuman power within._

_When done, Castiel comes out of the store. A woman starts screaming - he looks like there's something inside his stomach and it's trying to get out. The high-pitched cry draw other passers-by's attention. Someone calls an ambulance. Another person notices corpses in the store and blood smeared all over, and calls the police. No one comes near Castiel though, they're just staring._

_He doesn't seem to care about anything happening around him. He's too busy spitting out black goo. At some point he kneels down, his body unable to hold him straight up because of all the amounts of foreign liquid he's throwing up._

_He feels pain in his chest, like someone's crushing him with an anvil. His limbs give in completely to exhaustion. His head crashes onto the pavement, knocking him unconscious._

_**[flashback end]**_

It's two hours later, and Castiel feels like his head is going to burst with all the information Dean's given him. As he started talking, accusation was piercing through his voice, and Castiel started wondering bitterly on how he might've ever thought of it as of his friend.

From what Dean's told him, he knew there indeed was a unique bond between them. Up to when the threads from both of them to one another started to roll, anyway.

Before Dean began his lecture he went somewhere for a minute or two to "make some calls" as he said. When he was halfway through the story, a man entered the room. He was gigantic, had brown hair, sideburns, and complete lack of taste in clothing he was wearing. His eyes were of a similar shade to Dean's, making it easy for Castiel to guess it was his brother. He awkwardly tried to hug Sam back, but his hands were tightly cuffed to the sides of the bed, so it was hard for him to move.

After that small interruption, Dean went on, but his voice was a lot less harsh, as if Sam's presence soothed his emotions. That or the bitchface he gave him every time Dean sounded particularly coarse.

Dean is finishing up when they hear voices in the hallway.

"Just for the heads up - the world doesn't know about all this," Dean motions all three of them. "So don't tell the cops."

"We'll get you out of this," Sam adds reassuringly, and before Castiel can ask what exactly is he needed to be gotten out of, two men in uniforms come in.

Both Winchesters stand up and rustle through their pockets. After showing badges, they greet newcomers with handshakes, smiles, and fake names. The cops introduce themselves, and explain that they came to fetch Castiel, since he regained his consciousness. They don't call him by his name though. They talk about him as "John Doe", and Winchesters go along smoothly with that.

Castiel can't exactly say why he complies Dean's request. Obviously, he doesn't remember him, or anything really, but his story makes sense. Or it would if it wasn't batshit insane. Nevertheless, Castiel feels as if the presence of both brothers is familiar, and in a good way too. For now he decides to listen to Dean's advice and keep his mouth shut.

He watches the encounter, his eyes going from one side to the other as they talk. It looks a little ridiculous, like he's keeping his eyes on a ball during a table tennis match, but played in slow motion.

From what Castiel gathers from his observations, he gets to know he was in a coma for the past three months, and apparently it's not a long time considering other people who have fallen into that state and stay like that for years. It also means he doesn't need a full recovery, because his limbs are just fine. This is why they have a full right to take him to prison.

_Prison?_ Castiel's mind starts to panic a little., but then he remembers all Dean's told him, as well as Sam's assurance. Well, that makes a lot of sense now - him being handcuffed to bed and all.

Then it hits him - it really is true. All he did to his friends, his companions, brothers, sisters, as well as other innocent people. The cops rip him out from these dark thoughts by uncuffing him and tossing a shirt, trousers, underwear, and socks on his lap. Their attitude changes drastically when they're not addressing to the Winchester brothers. It takes Castiel a second to remember that they think of him as a criminal, and the worst of a kind too. Another while until he realizes that, all in all, he actually is one. Just because he has forgotten, doesn't make these people he killed less dead.

He gets into his clothes mindlessly, then is given a pair of shoes which he puts on as well. Rings of metal are back around his wrists, his arms twisted behind his back. As he steps out, leaving Dean and Sam behind alone in the room, four more policemen join the two who are already holding him by his shoulders. They all escort him to the escalator, down, out of the hospital, and finally into a police van.

Castiel can't help but feel uneasy as they eye him like he's the source of all evil. It's even worse when it comes to his mind that for all he knows, he might as well be. Dean and Sam didn't seem to think so, and he draws some comfort from the thought.

Two of his guards are more at ease, only gazing at him angrily, but the other four show some nervousness and grip their holsters with sweaty palms.

The vehicle leaves the parking lot, and Castiel can tell it's going to be a long drive.

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A/N: I am a sucker when it comes to naming things, so this chapter's title was brought to you by Liquid Stranger - Bully (I was listening to this when writing the flashback scene and thought it fits enough)


	3. How pleasant has been this demise

Sorry it took me so long, but I was violently ill for the past week. Hopefully, next update will be faster.  
due to that fact the quality may be a little lower. then again this chapter, unlike past two, was beta'd. (special thanks to Paulin!)

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Mashed potatoes splatter across the plate, and Castiel suppresses the urge to flinch. He's been here long enough to know they taste as bad as they look. He moves on with his tray. An overweight lady with red-dyed hair gives him a disapproving glare as she shoves some suspiciously-looking meat that has been put though grinder on his plate. Castiel's response at the behavior is his usual blank gaze he gives pretty much everyone. He walks away, his eyes searching through the canteen.

The sun is barely shining through the barred windows up on the walls, even though it's the middle of a day. The color of the floor is probably the only ugly shade of gray to ever exist in the history of humanity. The paint on the walls is no better. Whole scenery looks quite gloomy. That is until Cas lays his eyes on the brown-haired man with pointy nose sitting in the right corner of the room. He is grinning and waving his hand, motioning Cas to come over. He complies, goes over to the metal table and sets his tray on it.

"Hello, Tom," his lips quirk upwards just a teeny tiny bit, because he can't help but smile at the gleeful attitude of his cellmate. Honestly, a rigorous prison made strictly for serial killers is bound to be filled with angry faces. Rage or annoyance is a natural feeling for a person who has been sentenced for life in prison. Being locked up is nothing to be happy about. Obviously, Tom isn't normal. He's always cheerful, but not in that insane "I'm gonna kill you all and love every second of it" kind of way. Cas is actually glad he ended up with him in the cell.

"Johnny," Tom nods his head at him and goes on with stuffing his mouth with potatoes. As awfully they may taste, it's not like the catering here will ever get better.

Neither of them bothers with chit-chat during the meal. They spend most of the time together anyway. In a prison there isn't much of a choice in the matter really. Castiel's thoughts come back to the place they've been a lot lately - his own past life and the promise given by the Winchesters. It's been two months and still no word from either of them. At first it didn't bother him. Well, maybe it did, but he was too occupied with his new environment to find time to be worried. After all, being locked up with over-aggressive or manipulative and sneaky or just plainly bored men isn't exactly all sweet and honey.

Castiel was happy to discover that, despite the fact that he doesn't heal as fast as Dean said he used to, he is strong enough to resist against most of the abusers. The first time didn't go all too well, so his is still sore and ribs bruised. Nevertheless, that experience taught his to stand for himself, and from then on he has been defending himself to built a reputation and, in result, be left alone. Then again there weren't many men stupid enough to go after a guy who allegedly killed over a couple of dozens of people using no particular weapon other than his hands and teeth. Tom didn't seem to be grossed out though. Which only proved Castiel's view on him, but also enabled them to become friends. Having an ally, and a person to talk to, helped Cas significantly. Not that he could tell him much about his life.

Castiel's been having weird dreams ever since he arrived to the prison. sometimes they were sensations rather than pictures. Like the scent of the upholstery that was buried into his mind, or a fracture of soft skin. There weren't all rainbow and sunshine though. Bloodshed, gore, screams, smell of sulfur and iron. Despite the nightmares, he couldn't place any actual events from his life in his memory, just shreds of what once existed as a whole. His times awake wasn't much better. He doesn't recall who he was, what kind of person he was, but he was told a story. Awful story in which he wasn't a victim - he was a villain. Guilt added nothing to his well-being. Although how well can one feel with memory loss and a life sentence?

So Castiel does what he can - he eats his grinded yucky meat and gets through another day with a blank expression he wears of all time.

Days come and go melting into one. There's not much to do here so Castiel's lying on his smelly bunk and stares at the ceiling, wondering. His dreams give him more questions than answers. Not only about what he's done, but also about his relationship with the Winchesters - Dean to be exact. He's growing more and more confused as of to who they were to one another. He tries to push that thoughts away, for now at least, since he can't exactly make himself remember and it feels like torture to even try.

As the fifth month of his spent in prison rolls around, Castiel finds himself slightly annoyed, but the feeling comes with a huge dose of concern. He still doesn't remember much about Dean and Sam, but he did get the impression they're not the kind of people who would speak idly.

He is sleeping significantly less than before. The nightmares visit him way more often. The only thing keeping him from dwelling into his worried is Tom and his jokes and general attitude. Castiel doesn't laugh anymore, but he is helping. Those are the only seconds of the day that he doesn't spend on being worried and angry, and feeling immensely guilty. It's been eating on him since the pained look crossed Dean's face when he asked him who he was, and it's been expanding up until now. Being left for six months with infinity of questions burning into his mind, Castiel feels like he is going to blow up. Six months of tension building up within him are finally rewarded when one afternoon he is called out to the visitation room. His heart starts up pumping blood into his veins so fast that his brain is overflowing with it. Cas slumps a little on his way as the dizziness hits him. He overcomes it quickly and walks through the hallway and out the door.

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as always, I'm not very creative with titles. this one's from Hello, My Treacherous Friends by OK Go.


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